


Weakened

by Niullum



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Chronic Illness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Gen ABO, Janet Drake A+ parenting, Lack of Communication, No Sex, Omega Verse, On Hiatus, Parent Bruce Wayne, Self-Esteem Issues, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niullum/pseuds/Niullum
Summary: In a world where everyone is divided into three different cast and forced to live in packs in order to survive, the existence of Timothy Drake is an abnormality that sticks out like sore thumb.Because unlike the rest, Tim is defective. Due to a gene mutation, Tim has no omega, alpha or beta traits. He can’t smell other people’s scent, nor he produces hormones that can make him form bonds and be accepted into someone’s pack.And while he’d learn to live with this condition, there are times where he wishes he was more than a simple liability or back-up member. Times where he dreams about holding a spot in Bruce’s numerous packs. A place where he could be accepted, loved and cherished.But just like fairytales, Tim knows that those ambitions would only live in his mind. It was only when his body decided to stop functioning, that Tim was proved wrong all along.





	1. Introducción

**Author's Note:**

> *has 12380912312 tests and exams next week*  
me: let's write instead!

Nine months of a pregnancy with no complication and Janet was ready to get the boy out of her womb. It was around Sunday when she felt different. A vague pain that spread throughout her body, but she paid no mind. Months of enduring swollen feet, fatigue and headaches had toughened her up.

She wanted him out.

It was only when her water broke and the contractions began, that Janet called her husband. Minutes later, and she was headed to Gotham’s private clinic. Nine hours later, and the parasite she’d been finally harvesting came out.

It was when the doctor performed tests around the muteness baby that she realized something was off. 

The pup never  _ whined _ .

* * *

Two days later, she was discharged with a new-born and a pamphlet that said  _ “a parent’s guide to genetic ” _ in red letters. She was supposed to rest four days at the hospital, but two days of seeing the pitying looks from the staff had made her snap, and forced his husband to convince the doctors she was good to go.

So now she was in her husband’s car, with a baby on board, and two steps away from breaking down into tears. Whatever thing Jack said in the whole trip, went deaf to her ears. 

There was a more pressing matter, such as the baby placed against her chest, who gurgled every once in a while. And if she put her mind to work, Janet could make herself imagine it was his son purring. 

_ Son _

With the exception that she wasn’t good to go. Her state of mind was far away from anything that could be near the word good. She wasn’t okay. Not at all. There was this tightening pain in her chest every time she caught a glimpse of her pup, breathing against her chest.

She hadn’t fully come to terms with what the doctors said about his son, Timothy. According to the pamphlet and an expert about the subject, his son could live a great life if he was nurtured and cared for correctly. 

But how could she give his son love despite knowing he would live the rest of his life like that? Where Tim didn’t smell like hers? As far as instincts played, Tim smelled like what could be described as a rotten egg.  _ Daily bath and marking,  _ said the pamphlet _ , so the baby can get used to it. _

Not to mention that he would never be able to smell like the pack. She should have listened to her mother, warning him to not marry Jack. Betas and Omegas offsprings were more likely to suffer genetic defects.

But Janet didn’t listen. She tried anyway, like the fool she was to make this relationship work. Ignored every single comment about the possibility of her baby suffering from something. 

And now, she was paying the price,  _ hard.  _

Because how could she live with a child who would never be able to bond or be able to distinguish scents? 

Timothy, her child, was simply  _ doomed. _


	2. Presentando a la familia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS i never thought I would receive so much feedback over my little self-indulgent story 😭😭😭 Thank you all so much!!! You're all amazing!

_“Mr. Drake I’m calling from the Baltimore clinic to remind you about your appointment on Tuesday at two o'clock with Dr. Hobbs. We urge you to come since the doctor has expressed concern over the last test result and would like to speak about different options regarding your condition. Hope you have a nice day,”_

* * *

Tim knew something was wrong when he went to have breakfast and Jason wrinkled his nose, Dick coughed, and Bruce frowned at him. He took a step back, thinking of every possible factor that could have made Jason react like that, only to realize a few moments later that he hadn’t taken a shower.

_ Oh _

His cheek began to redden in a blush, mortified at his own body for embarrassing him. While one may think he had grown accustomed to the side effects that came with his genetic condition, it was in times like this where Tim wished the earth to swallow him.

Preferably whole.

A small spark of insecurity began to blossom all over him, as he slowly retreated. Alfred had yet to say something, but Tim knew Alfred was too nice to comment on his foul smell. Perhaps he could take a bath and then join them?

He didn’t want them to bother them at such an early hour with his unpleasant smell.

“You stink Drake,” Damian barked, with as much ferocity a teen could have but since his voice was changing, the sentenced end up in a squeak. He’d recently presented over two months ago and was now slowly transitioning and gaining traits of an Alpha, but hearing his voice end up in squeak and crack? It was _hilarious_.

“Come back when you don’t smell like putrefaction-”

“Damian,” Bruce Wayne growled in that very Alpha clipped tone that meant business, and the rest of the boys stilled. Timothy remained right where he was, near the door leading to the hallway, unsure of how to proceed. It had taken a while for Tim to differentiate the types of growls, snarls, and sounds that came with living with the Waynes, but since he couldn’t smell scents, it was better to take no chance.

Bruce cleared his throat and shoot a smile at Tim, who fiddled near the door as Damian crossed his arms and sulked in his chair.

“Please take a seat, Tim,” He ordered pointing at the chair next to Damian.

“It’s okay Bruce,” He offered, his hands already turning the knob. There was a fifteen-minutes of intense scrubbing on the shower waiting for him. “I can come back later-”

“We’ve been waiting for you Timbo,” Dick interceded, giving him a warm smile that made Tim’s stomach churned. He knew Dick was saying it only to not make him feel bad. “Alfred even made your favorite.”

“But- “

“Or else Jason will eat them all,” Dick continued, his eyes set on Tim. “Think of it as a good to the community, because Jason will eat them all and get more fat, and we all know he’s barely fitting in his suit these days,”

“_Excuse me, _Dick?” Came the indignant reply from Jason baring his teeth at Dick who gave him a wink. “It’s not my fault that I bulk up easily!”

“I saw Alfred making you _salad_ Jason the other day,”

“I’m simply lowering my fat percentage,”

“_Salad Jason,_” Dick singsong loud and clear, as Jason groaned with despair. Tim couldn’t help to smile at seeing the domestic banter. It was one of the things he missed, ever since he moved to his small apartment. “_Sa-lad,” _

“Well at least my fat doesn’t end up in the ass like you, _Dick”_

“I have to inform you that I have a perfectly round-ass thank you,” Dick remarked in a very-serious tone that made Tim crack up. He inched closer, momentarily forgetting his insecurities, just so he could hear it better. “Kori rate it a five-star service. I have yet to receive a complaint so why don’t you take note of _that one_ Jay-jay?”

“Sure, maybe that’s why she spends so much time pegging you in the as- “

_ “Boys,”  _ Both Bruce and Alfred growled in warning and Tim simply _lost it_, laughing so much that he had to support himself against the wall or else he would fell to the floor. 

God, he loved _this _family.

“See Master Timothy? This is exactly the kind of things that happen when you’re not on the table with us,” Alfred said indignantly once he finished pulling Jason’s ear. “Please spare us any more indignant moment like this and sit with us,”

Tim nodded as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Don’t you even dare,” Damian warned but Tim ignored and sat next to him.

“I see someone didn’t take their vitamins,” He shoot back as reach out for the bread, evaded the jam Damian _accidentally_ threw at him and ruffle his hair, ignoring the way the teen shrieked about death and revenge and blah, blah, blah.

Trust him, at this point, Tim has heard it _all_.

After that, they ate in a relatively quiet manner, with the occasional question from Bruce to his pack while Tim munched quietly, too absorbed in his breakfast to notice the casual glances Dick or Bruce gave in his direction. He knew the ritual, and it wasn’t his place to be asked questions.

Those were reserved to pack, and Tim had long lost hope in ever joining. He knew the statistic of his kind and the side effects they had in a pack; how the vast amount of health problems they carried for being packless would damage the bond between their members.

It was why the government stopped trying to match them, and just waited for them to die. A small ping to his cellphone interrupted his meal and took out his phone from his pants, ignoring the irritated look on Alfred’s face. He muttered a quick sorry and opened to see the notification.

He frowned as he quickly read it.

“Who texted you, Tim?” Bruce asked once he finished tucking his phone back. He shook his head and eyed the half-eating pancake, his appetite long gone. “Was it a doctor?

“Earth to Timmy, Timbo, Timidy-bits?”

“Is something the matter?”

“Shall I have to shake you Drake for you to answer?

“No,” He said, trying to shake the off feeling inside his chest. He knew the Baltimore doctor only meant well as he was the best on the field about his condition, but seeing how he had sent him an email with his test results and data, urging him to go to his general physician to discuss said results, felt…

_ Wrong. _

“Speaking of doctors,” Alfred continued, and Tim simply knew he was going to get lectured. _I knew I shouldn’t have slept here_ “I haven’t been called from the speech therapist office ever since you decided to re-schedule a month ago. Master Tim, are you still going to the appointments?”

Tim groaned.

_ Of course,  _ Alfred would jump at the subject.

“I still don’t understand why I even have to go to those sessions,” He said sullenly when Bruce gave him a pointed look. It had been his late birthday present from Bruce, who booked a six-month session with the best the Speech-language pathologists in Gotham after Tim confessed while high on morphine (after being stabbed) how he’d always wanted to growl.

“What’s the point of going there anyway? You all know I can’t growl,”

Then he added, with a self-deprecated laugh.

“I don’t even have the muscles to do so,”

“Hey! Don’t talk yourself down,” Dick said to his defense. “You were doing amazing progress there Tim. And I’m sure that in two more months you’ll get the hang of it.”

But hell, Tim knew he was only saying to make him feel better. While at first, he’d been ecstatic when Bruce had given him those sessions, it soon died once after one month of training, he still hadn’t found a way to not gurgle. Soon disappointed turned into embarrassment when he decided to practice while patrolling and gained a bark of laughter from Jason's part.

“Yeah replacement, those gurgles were _on point_, and ow! Ow! Ow! Dick why are you _hitting me_”

“_Shut the fuck up Jason,_” Dick hissed, but Tim didn’t register it. A sick feeling of dread formed in his gut at the reminder of how even at seventeen-years-old, Tim was still chained to doctors’ appointments and regular check-ups, and it was just…_totally unfair_.

There was always a new negative development with his condition. Either it was his blood pressure, a deficiency of iron, or a weakened suppressed immune system, there was always something wrong with him and at this point, he was just _so tired of facing it_.

“I’m going to Leslie’s,” He announced a few moments later, while Dick’s hands were still tugging Jason’s hair, quickly picking up his plate and leaving in the sink” Nothing to worry about. I’ll talk to you guys later, I have a meeting in the afternoon,”

Bruce immediately stood up.

“Do you want me to accompany you? I can drop you in the clinic and talk to Lucius to give you the afternoon free,” He asked and then said. “I may not be a CEO anymore, but I’m sure Lucius can trust my judgment.”

Tim hesitated before finally declining, shaking his head. Because as much as Tim wanted to, Bruce didn’t need to waste his time on trivial things like him. 

He was _fine_.

And he was sure Leslie was going to support him

_ (not after he took a quick shower. Because apparently, smelling like rotten egg never gained him any favors) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And if you like it please leave a kudo or a comment! I would love to hear your opinions 💖


	3. Resultados y confesiones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg guys sorry for the wait, but this chapter was so hard to write and I was stuck and ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH *screams in wips* :(

_His breath quivered in short and quick gasps every time he inhaled, his lungs having no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the chilled air around him. _

_His head felt like exploding. _

_ He couldn't seem to stop shaking either. _

_ What…what was wrong with him? _

* * *

His head throbbed.

That was the first thing his mind registered as soon as he exited the main entrance of Wayne’s manor. He first blamed it on the temperature change, since winter was just around the corner these days. He blasted the car AC’s Bruce had let him borrow, in the hopes it would help him, but it didn’t.

Which was why thirty minutes later he was leaning his head against the wall and fiddling with the medical gown the secretary had given him, humming a soft off-tune beat to distract him from the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, and counted to ten, willing to let the pain go away. But it was almost as if one of Two-face’s men had put a knife to his skull.

It hurt.

He thought for a moment whether to call someone, but he was the only one in the medical box as Leslie had yet to come, probably attending a more serious case. So, he closed his eyes and waited. The gown felt scratchy against his skin, but he knew that the itch would only get worse if he started scratching it.

He started swinging his legs instead, deep in thought.

On the other side of the room where the rest of his belongings; a backpack that somehow Alfred had bombarded it with snacks and his laptop. He had taken the folder with the test results he printed aside and placed it on the desk, and now a few centimeters away from him there it was begging to be open and studied.

But he resisted the urge to snoop, more focused on trying to get rid of the throbbing pain around his skull. He started tapping his finger against the examination table and looked for the hundredth time the awful looking painting that somehow Leslie kept loving, even though it was probably older than Bruce.

When Leslie didn’t show up five minutes later, he began transmitting _“I’m bored”_ in Morse code with his fingers, than to repeatedly chant “_Hungry”_ when his stomach began to protest until the pain intensified and his breath hitched.

“Sorry for making you wait for,” Leslie apologized fifteen minutes later, wiping the remnants of blood from her hands before quickly hugging him. She was calm and collected, the stereotypical image of beta, that somehow always reminded him of Alfred.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon after the last check-up,” She said. There were a few more wrinkles around her face, but apart from that, she looked good. Well, as good as you could be from running the free clinic in the dangerous part of Gotham for all the people Gotham had cast aside. “Any idea on why you are sitting here?

“Nah, something came up with my blood tests,” He said, giving her a tight smile, hiding the discomfort. They both knew that if it had been for Tim, he would very well gladly not visit a doctor ever again. Years of being in exams and check-ups had finally fed him up. But it was one of the compromises he did with Bruce, once he let him wear the cowl and be Robin for the first time.

_ Check your health. _

_ Do your homework. _

_ And hit the bad guys at night (but only when it wasn’t school night or else Alfred would have his head) _

“Did you like the doctor?” She asked while putting on the medical gloves. His heart began to beat faster, once he saw her picking up her medical kit from her desk. _Oh no, _he thought with despair unconsciously sitting further back, _not again._

“I heard he’s pretty good at his specialty.”

Suddenly the pale white walls seemed far away.

“He was very…,” He searched for the correct word as Leslie took his blood pressure. After a while, the machine beeped, and Leslie wrote _82/ 45 _on the paper. He cocked his head to the side and tried to remember if that was within the normal range, but it quickly disappeared when Leslie asked.

“Very…?” She prompted, coaxing him to finish.

“Very _determined_ to help me,” He finished with a nod as she checked his temperature. His left leg starting bouncing, another sign that he wanted to get out of here fast. And why did his head hurt so much?

He needed some Tylenol.

“Has he talked to you about the options?” She asked once she finished checking his temperature. Then she went for the ears and eyes, as it was one of the most common signs of illness in Omega and Alphas suffered due to their enchanting smell and sight. “His latest paper about the hormonal therapy he did with packless had the rest of the scientific community speechless”

“Is that why you refer me to him?” He said as Leslie started checking his ear and eyes. He squirmed when the otoscope was pushed into his ear. Call it what you want but Tim thought it was _nasty._ “I’m still considering it,”

“Which means that you don’t want it,” She stated matter-of-factly, before checking then to see his throat but Tim shut his mouth. She sighed, exasperated. “I thought we had passed grudges at this point, Tim.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and huffed.

“And I’m still angry at you for going behind my back and calling Alfred about it,” He said because he still hadn’t found a way to forget it. There hadn’t been anything more embarrassing when Alfred scheduled him an appointment and clear his whole agenda and stating it in front of Bruce and his family.

“He told Bruce Leslie.” That appointment had been horrendous the moment Bruce was notified and immediately declared he was going with him.

“I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ bad- “

“_Bruce,”_ He stressed out the words, just so he could make his point. The image of Bruce Wayne casually sitting in the waiting room while reading the “omegahood section” from Entertaining weekly after taking one from the rack, had been _horrifying_.

“You weren’t picking up your phone,” She counter-argued, with one arched eyebrow. Her hands touched the back of Tim’s neck, checking for any lump. “And you did file Alfred Pennyworth as your emergency contact anyways”

“But being referred is not an emergency!” He protested and squirmed when she began palpating the side of his neck too close to where the headache was located. He bit down the whimper or else Leslie’s would spend more time and he needed to get out of here, fast.

Three boarding meetings were waiting for him.

She then relocated her fingers to where his scent glands were supposed to be, then went to the front to check if his thyroid or lymph node were inflamed.

“For your condition? Yes, it is Tim,” She said ignoring how Tim deflated and muttered a quick sorry. He always hated how Leslie found a way to poke into his arguments and made him look like an unruly pup.

To his luck, she quickly changed the topic.

“Any idea on what prompted Dr. Hobbs to have you seeing me?” He grunted when Leslie’s stethoscope touched his back, and slowly breath in and out when she told him so.

“Not that I don’t like you, but I’m just a general physician,”

“You know I prefer you better than Dr. Hobbs,” He declared until Leslie’s pinched his cheek rather hard. He rubbed it, looking at her with betrayal on his eyes. “Well until a few seconds ago,”

She snorted.

“Sure kid, whatever you say,” Then she went on doctor-mode and that’s when Tim knew it was going to be an interrogation time. He only hoped the headache wouldn’t make him incoherent.

“Now tell me how you have been lately,”

“I’m _fine,”_ He stressed since apparently, Leslie and 90% percent of the world couldn’t understand that yet. Sure, sometimes he would have these intense headaches, but it wasn’t that bad. Everyone had headaches, he was just being sensitive.

That’s all.

” The doctor must be paranoid and probably the tests are within the normal range, just like the past four times,”

Leslie hummed.

“Then you will have no problem with the rest of the examinations then,” She stated, cracking her knuckles that for some reason made Tim’s sixth sense start tingling.

There was something wrong with this picture.

His head was starting to hurt again.

* * *

“…so, Dr. Hobbs’s research pointed that 73% of packless managed to get integrated into a pack with the help of hormonal treatment…”

Tim nodded, but they both knew he didn’t care about Dr. Hobbs’s magical bullshit treatment or whatever Leslie was trying to speak about. But Tim knew that unless he wanted to lose his ear, he had to at least pretend he was listening to Leslie’s poor attempts of convincing him.

Leslie was _scary_ when she wanted to.

“…and none of the respective member’s bond was damaged…” He checked his watch when Leslie turned around and went to retrieve the scientific paper, she had forced him to read for like the _twentieth time_.

She even took the time to color code it; green for the statistic, blue for the hypothesis.

And a bright yellow for the conclusion that came down to _it’s a cure! A possibility for not dying! It may even turn you into an acceptable member of society!_ Except that Tim knew that was only publicity to attract people like him to submit to more medical experimentation.

And he had enough doing that.

His first childhood years were spent on medical facilities or research centers, being constantly poked with needles and drugs. His parents had been so _desperate_ to find a cure, to make him get traits to be accepted into their pack, that they had even signed him up as a willing test subject. And it had taken years for him to be comfortable again with needles ever since the medical experimentation his parents put him through, in the hopes Tim could be normal.

They never expected that same experimentation to bite them in the butt.

“…Do you understand what it means Tim…?”

Tim simply closed his eyes, counted to ten and started making those same exercises Barbara taught him whenever he felt his chest tightening. Except that instead of his chest, the pain was located inside his head and Tim couldn’t understand why. The blood exams only indicated that his white cells had lowered, but nothing else. But why then his head felt like exploding?

It didn’t make sense.

“…. It could mean you could get integrated into Bruce’s _pack_…”

“You know it won’t Leslie,” He was breathing more labored, partially out for his head and partially to not his emotions get the best of him. But it was hard because it was _Bruce _and it was _pack_, two of the things Tim had chased most of his life.

“It _never works,” _

“The statistic shows otherwise Tim,” Leslie said. “This chance means you could live more. No more monthly check-ups, no more hospitalizations, no more medications. It’s the closest you can have to a cure, to live fully, and you still resist it. Every time I have commented about it, you ignored it and I don’t understand why,”

“You know why I can’t,” Because as much as he wanted, as much as he _longed_ to be a part of Bruce’s family, he couldn’t be so selfish. He had never forgotten the pain he inflicted on his parent’s pack. “I’ll only damage Bruce’s bond with the rest of his family and I won’t allow it,”

“No, you won’t Tim-“

“Because that’s what happened to me parents,” He spat out. “They tried to bond with me despite the drugs and the surgeries, and I still broke their bond. I broke their relationship so much that they had to leave the states, and now they’re _dead. I can’t go through that again,” _

Because how could he forget the countless treatments he underwent as a child? Or the surgeries he experienced as a kid, thinking that would be enough for his body to not fuck up his parent’s bond? The months of therapy and injections the doctor had promised him and his parents to be the final cure to all of Tim’s problems?

_ “ _I can-can’t do that to Bruce, not when he just started mending his relationship with Jason.”

He underwent every possible treatment the best doctors in the states had to offer and yet none of it made a difference when his parents tried to bond with him, and the consequential failure it had on his parent’s pack.

He could never forget the pain in his mother’s face whenever Tim got near her, or the hospitalization his father had after their second attempt in trying to bond with them.

That afternoon, when the doctor broke the news to them had been the hardest, because they immediately left the clinic and went straight to their home. They put him to sleep, and the next day they were simply _gone_, with the excuse that from now on they would focus more on their work.

And it _hurt_.

But he was used to it.

He _had_ to get used to it.

“Bruce gave me a chance,” He fidgeted with the hem of his gown, eyes set on the ground. “He gave me Robin, and I…don't think I would ever forgive myself if they tried to bond with me and I messed up the relationship between him and the rest of his family.”

A beat, before he added.

“I _can’t_,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was initially going to give Tim another illness but I reconsider it, so this is a last minute change, so yeah. It may seem like what Tim's having is not a big deal, but it will slowly progress over the next future chapters. 
> 
> BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU TIM WON'T DIE, MARK MY WORDS AND HE WILL BE SHOWERED WITH LOVF.  
Thanks for reading! And please don't hesitate to give kudos or write a comment! 💕


	4. Sacar el gato de la bolsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, I'm back ❤️  
This chapter was kinda frustrating, but I've rewritten it too many times that I finally came to the conclusion that the chapter's fine and I'm probably overthinking it and it's just my anxiety talking. Anyways, enjoy it!

Life moved on quickly as Tim carried the rest of his responsibilities on his shoulder; between dividing his life as CEO of Wayne enterprises and being a part-time vigilante. He soon returned to his boring routine that mostly consisted of meetings and signings papers until his hands cramped up while taking as many painkillers that could extinguish the migraines and headaches.

Not that the painkiller had any effect on his body.

As to the headaches, well… it hadn’t got better. There were times when the headaches hit him in the middle of board meetings and all Tim could do was lay there and suffer in silence. Some new developments came with the headaches. In a matter of a week, he became acquainted with nausea, migraines, fever, vomiting, loss of balance and a lot of other things that began to dictate over his life. 

But even with that in mind, he refused to go to Leslie. The last visit ended with an ultimatum; either he submitted to Dr. Hobbs’s treatment or she would tell Bruce that there was something wrong with him, and that was what scared Tim the most. 

Because he knew that Bruce would not stop…and Tim was terrified_. _

He didn’t want to break Bruce’s family apart. 

Soon meeting with the rest of Bruce’s family got awkward, since it reminded him too much of Leslie’s conversation and the implication of what it could mean for him if he didn’t go under in Dr. Hobbs’s treatment anytime soon. How his body would slowly start shutting down one by one, and how he would slowly agonize and die. Thing was, that Tim had long made peace with the fact he wouldn’t live past eighteen, and he was okay with that.

But if there was one thing he feared, was Bruce knowing about it.

This was why as in a true act of cowardice, Tim began to distance himself from Bruce and his family. He slowly began to spend more time in his apartment than the small room Alfred arranged for him whenever he got tired after patrol. Which was actually like a suite, if Tim was being honest. He never asked Alfred how he found the way to paint the room with his favorite colors since Tim had never told Bruce or any of his family how he was fond of warm mocha and nougat undertones. 

It only cemented the idea that Alfred was a meta-human. And he also stopped answering Dick’s weekly phone call asking about his wellbeing, since Dick had declared a long time ago that it was one of his responsibilities as the official older brother in the family. When Dick had informed Tim for the first time, he didn’t know what to respond because...he..._ Tim wasn’t_ his brother or even part of Bruce’s pack.

But since he didn’t want to hurt Dick’s feelings on the matter he went along with it, until now.

He silenced Bruce’s family text-chat, that mostly consisted (about 90% of the time) of memes between Bruce's family members (Jason was definitely fond of sending a photoshop picture of Bruce’s head with the word Knott-head all over) and the other 10% was Bruce telling the whole group to quiet and “_ Damian you’re supposed to be studying, so put the sword down” _. 

He limited the group patrol to once a week instead of the usual twice, and his tag score definitely went down, as everybody else took advantage of his absence and tagged the shit out of everybody. He even saw Damian scoring more than five in one night, and that itself was saying_ something._

That didn’t stop him from having to constantly reassurance that he was fine whenever Jason broke into his apartment and demanded to know what was going on. There was this tension in his body that came every time he had to face Dick’s interrogation and lie to his face saying he was taking some time for himself.

It made him feel as if he was living a double life. On one part he didn’t want to remove himself from Bruce’s life, but he knew that deep down, he was weak. He knew that if he didn’t take the precautionary measures, then the rest would know what was going on with him…and…

He didn’t want to risk Bruce’s family for something so trivial as his health. 

Sure, there were times where he got momentarily blinded by colorful flashing lights or times where he passed out from the pain. But everyone had headaches, after all. And not because his head hurt it meant he should stop.

The bats were counting on him.

But most importantly, _Bruce was_ counting on him.

* * *

It was cold.

Far too cold for Tim’s taste.

“Oracle, would you mind telling us what you found about the Lucchese family?” Batman said as they moved on with the rest of the meeting they had organized at the moment. The whole family was with him, and even Tim was impressed in seeing Damian being civilized for the first time in his life with the rest.

It could also be because they were dealing with a major case that could involve arresting a potential mob gang that had recently settled into Crime Alley and was related to child trafficking and money laundering, but at this point, it was just another night for the bats. Even with that, Tim had been surprised to see Jason hanging out in the back, placidly smoking and B’ not reprehending him. 

Since Bruce was overly protective of his members.

“Sure thing B’,” Barbara said with ease, moving the wheelchair so everyone could see her and clicked on her tablet. She’d chosen to go with black leggings and a white blouse that made her pack bite stand out more. Something that Tim was definitely going to interrogate Dick later because if his memory didn’t fail him, he’d been courting her for two years now. 

Then again, it was Dick they were talking about, so chances were that Dick had fucked up with her. An alpha thing, probably. 

Soon a blue hologram was displayed in the center of the room, and four-person profiles appeared on them. _ They have terrible taste,_ Tim thought while looking quite enthralled at the horribly mismatched outfits the criminals wore. 

_ At least it’s Gucci...? _

“One month ago, we retrieved exclusive intel from GCPD,” Babs started and was interrupted a few moments later when Jason snorted at that, only to be heavily reprimanded when B’ gave him one clipped “_ shut up” _ growl. 

He even showed his teeth and everything.

_ Someone doesn’t have much patience tonight, _Tim observed while watching the rest. In fact, they all looked very tensed and uncomfortable. Stephanie’s leg was bouncing, Todd kept smoking as he had long lost hope of being a human being and decided to become a chimney, Dick was clenching his jaw so hard that Tim was two seconds away from referring him to a maxillofacial surgeon.

And Bruce looked far more constipated than the usual.

“There was a rise of crime and children disappearances, near Park Row...ten kid around the age of twelve to fourteen and-”

After that Barbara kept talking and pointing every once in a while the gang member that had been seen by the cameras snatching kid ups. All while Tim stood near the door, and pushing whatever ounce of determination to distinguish what Bab was saying because his head was hurting like crazy and he was feeling cold.

Well, his head had been hurting all day long. He checked his pockets for any painkiller, but he had none. His mistake was hissing when he turned around and the sudden movement made his head like it was on the verge of exploding.

“Anything else you want to add Red Robin?” Batman asked, but with the cowl and everything it was hard to know if he was mad or bored at him. 

“N-no,” He stammered out, wincing when the pain got worse. 

“Then we’ll start on Friday the witch hunt,” Stephanie energetically declared with a fist pump. “B with Robin, Red Robin with Nightwing and me with Red Hood. Just like the good old days. Now,”

She cracked her knuckles and huffed, just like the beta Tim grew up with, looking at Jason.

“Now who wants to get their ass beaten in Mario Kart?”

“You’re just bragging only because Cass isn’t here,” Jason argued. Probably still resented that his Alpha pride got demolished by Stephanie and everyone else in the house. He sucked at video games. “Or else she would definitely get all the stars,”

“You staying Tim?” Dick asked when they were all switching gears and heading towards the main floor, where countless matches of Mario Kart and screaming were waiting for then. “I overheard Jason convincing Alfred to order from the Pizza place you like so much”

Tim hesitated, putting down his belt on the table, eyes set on the ground. While he’d promised himself to only stay for the debrief and then go straight to his apartment, he could acknowledge that he did miss hearing Jason’s groans of dispair and Stephanie hoorays. According to Damian, there was nothing more therapeutic than smashing other members of Bruce’s pack without resorting to physical violence. 

But the pain in his head worsened, and he winced.

But he couldn’t stay, could he? It would only make them more suspicious about his behavior and worry more. Because what if Tim blurted out that his head hurt or moaned whenever felt as if someone was hitting the back of his head with a hammer?

A hand touching the bare part of his cold wrist made him realize Dick was waiting for his reply.

“I’m sorry Dick, but something came up with work and I have to solve it-” He started, because no matter how much he wanted to spend the night with them, he couldn’t risk it. Only to stop halfway, when he made the mistake to look at Dick in the eye.

_ Shit. _

“Only for twenty minutes,” He said only to make Dick stop looking him with that dejected sad look that always made him feel as if he had just declared he wanted to strangle a golden retriever. “Dick I’m serious. Twenty minutes and not more. I really have to get to my apartment,” 

“Sure,” Dick said a smile and even took the time to get out of there with an acrobatic flip Tim was so fonded of, but somehow deep down in his bones, Tim had the impression that he would stay the rest of the night. 

* * *

“Drake I demand a rematch,” Damian yelled after the screen declared their winner.

Jason groaned, Dick moaned and Tim simply smiled at the score. 

“Damian, you have lost five_ times in a row,_” Jason said, ruffling Damian’s hair despite Damian growling and snarling as if he’d been possessed by a rabid dog. “Hell Dick has more-” 

_ “A REMATCH!” _

* * *

Dick confronted Bruce later.

“When are you going to tell him, Bruce?” Dick asked once everyone had gone to sleep and they were the only ones left. He’d been wanting to talk to him the moment he began to notice Tim’s absence on patrol and the family text-chat. 

They’ve both forgotten to use scent blockers, so there was no way to hide the desperation, hurt and frustration that was coming in waves from Bruce. Not too far from Bruce and in between pillows and covers, one could differentiate Tim’s form placidly sleeping on the sofa without an ounce of worry in the world.

“We’ve wanting to tell him for months now,” He pushed forward, always keeping in mind to not come off as too aggressive or else Bruce will see it as a challenge and Dick didn’t want to deal with Jason’s laughter and mocking for being an _unruly pup _if he showed up to breakfast with a bite in his neck. The last time it happened, Jason hadn’t stop pestering for months. “You know it’s not fair to him or the rest” 

Bruce didn’t bother to respond eyes set on Tim. His knees creaked as he gently picked up Tim, not before scenting him but since Tim had decided to go AWOL for the past two weeks it took longer to wash away all the pungent egg rotting smell off of him.

Dick reclined farther on the nearest chair, watching the whole thing with interest. Eyes sharp on his pack’s leader. The absence of their favorite bird had been noticed by their instincts, and now the whole pack had been restless.

“It’s affecting everyone in the pack-”

“I won’t force him to bond with us if he doesn’t want to,” He began to speak and his voice inevitable rose out of… anger? hate? Either way, they both flinched when Tim made a distressed noise and Bruce cradled him closer. 

“He has stopped replying to my calls too,” Dick started remembering all the times Tim had left him on voicemail. “But Bruce, just_ talk _ to him,”

“If Tim finally realized our intentions in adding him to our family and wants to stay away from us, I won’t force him,” Dick shifted in his seat, guilty. They always knew this could be a possibility when years ago, the conversation about bonding with Tim came to the table and they organized a two-year plan of slowly transitioning him into their pack. So when the time came and their pack’s bond stabilized they would officially ask him without repercussions.

“Talk to him,” Dick said. “You don’t lose anything in talking Bruce,”

“Tomorrow,” Bruce said decidedly after he finally stopped rubbing his cheek against Tim’s neck, where the scent gland was supposed to be. His instincts far calmer then they were at the beginning since now Tim was smelling like the pack.

“Tomorrow I’ll talk to him,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat's out of the bag I guess. Also, we're getting near the end! Two more chapters!!!! Thanks for all the amazing feedback, (and oh wow I almost spit my coffee when I saw the number of bookmarks and kudos holy shit). You guys rock!!! I love you all so much!  
❤️💛💚💙💜


	5. And I oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: in this ABO verse, I decided to give them cat-like tendencies; licking, biting, scenting, nipping. So if you have a hard time imagining it, just think they're like cats, because who doesn't love cats.  
Enjoy!

**Chapter 5**

Tim opened his eyes feeling refreshed and strangely, calm. There was this sense of peacefulness Tim hadn’t felt for _weeks_. And even better, his head didn’t hurt. Not one bit. But he still wanted to sleep. So he wriggled under the covers, until he found another perfectly comfortable spot in the bed (the one that was near the edge and the wall), fluffed the pillow, turned on his left side and shut his eyes tightly, longing to gain a few more hours of precious sleep.

Only to open them, a few seconds later, when his brain finally computed how he ended up here. While the memories were still fuzzy, he could vaguely remember that he agreed to play one match with Dick, and when Damian demanded a rematch, he’d ended for more until…

Until he fell asleep-

_Oh crap._

He immediately threw the covers aside and leaped from the bed, the thought of sleep now long gone. _Crap, crap, crap. _He ran to the bathroom and that was when he found, that someone had changed him into pajamas.

He gripped part of the bathroom countertop and tried not to panic. But with so many questions that had yet to be answered and too many unknown variables, it was hard. How long has he slept here? Who had changed him? And most importantly, _why_?

Oh crap. He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to this. He groaned, wanting to hit himself because this was _why_ he never wanted to stay in the first place. So, Tim did the only thing that came to his mind and that was going back and grabbing the shirt and pants from the nightstand. 

He anxiously threw it on. Not before washing his face to kill any residue of sleep left and hoping it would be enough for his brain to wake up and form a plan. 

Yes, a plan. He _needed _a plan that could involve sneaking out of the manor without awakening the rest of the household members. Or else there would be _questions_ that Tim did not, under any circumstances, want to answer. 

Because this time it wasn’t his spleen what was on the table, but Tim’s condition and if he blurted that out, then Bruce would start asking questions that will lead to more questions. That will lead to a visit to Leslie’s and make the whole truth come out and he can’t-

_He can’t let that happen_.

Tim squeezed his eyes shut and grasped the nearest furniture, just to make those intrusive thoughts go away. He counted to ten, stopped, counted five more and so on until he finally calmed down and finally breathe again. 

He looked at his reflection for the last time before making the final executive decision. He could do this. He opened the door slightly and peeped into the hallway, listening for sounds of approaching footsteps. When he didn’t hear anything, he ventured out.

The hallway was still vacant, meaning that could mean two things. Either it meant that Tim had woken up earlier than the rest or two, everyone was gone-

“Where are you going this early, hmm?” A voice said behind his back, and effectively shattering Tim’s hope of getting out of the manor quietly. Caught like a nut in a cracker, Tim stiffened and slowly turned around and it was no other than Dick, watching him with interest.

“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” Dick asked, taking a step forward. Tim took one back and eyed the options. Because for some strange reason there was this glint in Dick’s eyes that didn’t give him one ounce of confidence.

It reminded him of all the Alpha’s trait Bruce forced him to memorize when he first started training. Back when he was only a teen, trying to fill the giant steps Jason had left behind. And Bruce had barely begun to heal from the scars of Jason’s temporary death.

Maybe it was why Bruce wasted no time in, apart from teaching how to fight and wield a bo staff, differentiate Alpha’s intentions. _For your safety_, Bruce used to always say him. It was in what helped him survive in this strange world.

“Timmy?” Dick, taking another step. “Timbo?”

“I have to check something at the office,” He said, wanting to flee. Except that, just like any other thing Tim wanted in life, spectacularly failed.

* * *

“You know Tim is not going anywhere, right Dick?” Jason said, leaning against the wall, watching the whole ordeal with interest. In less than a meter away from him was Tim sprawled all over the floor fighting to get out of Dick’s hold.

Ignoring the way Tim wheezed out a faint _“help me”_ at him when Dick’s arm didn’t loosen, thinking Jason could be his savior. Turns out, that just like the rest of the members he saw passing by, Jason was a _traitor_.

“He didn’t reply any of my calls,” Dick said while he kept headbutting him like he was a goddamn cat, ignoring how much Tim protested. Hell, Tim even began nipping him back, just so Dick could understand to back the_ hell off. _

Except that instead of getting the message, Dick only tightened his hold and began to fervently rub his cheeks to Tim’s face and neck, ignoring how much he squirmed. Oh, god. He was going to die. Yep, he was going to die. He could already imagine his future grave plaque.

_Timothy Drake._

_Smothered to dead._

“Then you got this coming Tim,” Jason sighed with his _“what do you want me to do”_ kind of pose. Oh, he was enjoying this. _You’re going to pay for this Jason_, Tim thought when Dick began rubbing his cheek against his neck. 

_Again_.

“You know how much Dick values phone call, dude,” Jason said, effectively shattering Tim’s hope. “When you finish smothering him Dick, mind carrying him to the kitchen? Alfred’s making pancakes. Chocolate chips,”

“Jason. If you dare turn your back on me and I swear to god.” Tim hissed, with a little bit of gurgle at the end. Because you never know when a growl can come out. “That the next time your laptop dies with whatever trojan virus you got from watching _alien _porn, I will _send your whole internet history to Bruce_-”

“Oh wow,” Jason said, arching an eyebrow, hiding whatever surprise he had. Tim blinked; still hopeful this would be enough to help him. “Someone’s cranky this morning. Didn’t get enough sleep princess?”

“Jason, I swear-”

“It was a pleasure talking to you Tim,” Jason gave Tim a hand salute. Tim snarled, except that it came into one pathetic squeak Dick cooed at. It was only when he saw Jason walking away, that he got desperate.

“Jason don’t you dare turn your back on me-” Tim pleaded because he knew that the second Jason left, Dick would get even more stupid with whatever Alpha primitive instinct had possessed Dick.

A lick to his neck made him freeze and cemented his worst fear.

"Dick," Tim started. "I know you want to spend time with me but I'm not a _pup_, calm your horses and I swear, _oh my god_ _STOP LICKING ME,"_

* * *

“Good morning Master Timothy,” Alfred said, pushing the plate of pancakes towards Tim, who was at the end of the room. Well, as far as he could get from Dick, who was covering his black eye with ice after Tim accidentally decked him there.

Tim huffed, when Dick shot him a hurt kicked puppy kind of look. 

Serves him right for licking him.

“I was starting to get worried about how much you slept, Tim. Thought you have turned into a sloth for a second,” Bruce said warmly, as Tim was more focused on eating the pancakes. There was something strange about Bruce this morning. Could it be because Damian had already left for school? Mmm. But it could also be a concussion…

"Nah, it was more of Dick smothering him to dead B',” Jason said wolfing whatever miserable pancake had been picked to be slaughtered. “I got the creeps just watching,"

"Which reminds me, Jason,” Dick said, between bites. It was the fourth pancakes he was massacrating. Tim was barely on his second and he was already full. “We haven’t spent time together,”

“You scent me, and I’ll take out the big guns,” Jason threatened him. “I bought an-”

“No one will do anything without my permission. Dick, what have I told you to not pick up on your brother-" Bruce replied, well mannered, and that was when Tim realized something. Bruce turned around to face him. “What do you think Tim?”

“Yeah,” He said mind absently while trying to understand what was going on. There were not only not so subtle glances between Bruce’s pack at Bruce, but Bruce was acting...strange. Very unlike Bruce. Normally Bruce would just greet him, and then ask some questions to the rest of his pack, but today? He kept talking and initiating the conversation with him.

Not that he was complaining or anything. 

It was just..._weird. _

He looked at his plate and briefly thought why. Had Leslie told him anything? He tightened his grip on the fork because _oh god_, what if _she did_. He glanced at Bruce who kept looking at him back, and deep inside he felt a mix of panic and fear.

"What?" He asked when Bruce kept watching him like a hawk.

"I asked you if you had anything to do today Tim," Bruce said with a smile. Another warning sign, because Bruce almost never _smiled_. "I thought we could do something the two of us,"

Tim opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Um, I... need to work…?" He said confused, so much that the end of the sentence ended up in a question. His tired brain tried to file for an excuse, and he blurted out, two seconds later. “I have a meeting in thirty more minutes,”

Lie. 

The first meeting was four hours later, but not that it would matter anyway. 

“Then I’ll drop you off,” Bruce said standing up and effectively closing the conversation, not expecting any input from Tim. Tim tried to brush it off since he had a driver license but Bruce only said, “I insist” and left the kitchen. And strangely so, neither Jason nor Dick came to his defense.

They stayed quiet. 

“Master Bruce is waiting for you," Alfred said when five minutes had passed and Tim has stayed right there, trying to process what the hell just happened. Did Leslie tell him? Tim seriously hoped not, or else this was going to be one hell of an awkward car ride. 

"Thanks, Alf," He said, but somehow it sounded weak to his ears. Tim took his time stalling but eventually he went to the entrance and found that Bruce was on the Lamborghini. Something was wrong. Because Bruce only drove in the Lamborghini when something important was happening.

Oh, _no._

It took every ounce of courage to enter the car and sit on the passenger seat.

“Tim... I wanted to talk to you about something,” Bruce started, but even from the passenger seat, Tim could tell how uncomfortable Bruce felt. He was gripping the car steering wheel as if his life depended on it, knuckles even going white.

Except...he hadn’t even turned on the engine.

While Tim was just sitting in the passenger seat, with his eyes straight on the road despite the fact they were still in the entrance. Had he noticed? Did Leslie effectively violate patient confidentiality? Tim started fiddling with his hands when Bruce didn’t add anything more because oh god, what if she _did_.

What was worse was knowing that the silence was because Bruce was trying to communicate his _thoughts_ into _actual words_ with his _mouth_ and Tim couldn’t flee because he was in the _passenger seat._

He was _trapped_.

“Tim,” He started once again, probably rebooting his brain for the fifth time while Tim was trying _very hard _to not focus on Bruce. _Do not engage. _He even started doing the eye darting thing (okay, Tim lie back there, he was occasionally glancing). That was exclusively done when Bruce didn’t have anything else to say and wanted to establish eye contact so he could bullshit his way. 

Probably an alpha thing? Tim had no clue.

“Tim,” Bruce said with a hint of exhaustion. Tim blinked, more uncomfortable than ever, and effectively not looking forward to this. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, _chum_”

“I am-I’m looking at you,” Tim replied, blinking again because that’s what eyes apparently do. Blink. Then he added as his last brain cell died with the amount of emotional constipation Bruce was emanating through his pores. “With my eyes,”

“Good,” Bruce declared, turning on the engine and soon enough they were heading to the highway. Tim slumped more in the seat, relieved they had avoided the topic at all. “That’s very good,”

“Great,” Tim said when another moment of silence stretched rather uncomfortably. He shifted on his seat and took pleasure in focusing on the moving landscape and wished for anything to make Bruce not opened his mouth. 

“I’m glad we had this conversation, Tim,”

“Absolutely,” Luckily his phone ringed, effectively putting an end to whatever Bruce wanted to discuss with him. _Thank you so much._ He quickly took out the phone, muttered a quick sorry and focus on what Tam had found out in the annual reports.

Not seeing, in the process, how Bruce’s grip on the steering wheel momentarily faltered.

* * *

It was nine PM, and Tim was beginning to regret ever coming back to work. Especially since somehow, ever since he got out of Bruce’s car, he’d started feeling worse than all the other days in a row.

It was like as if someone was hammering his head. Now, should he take a break? Yes. Was he going to?

Absolutely not.

It was only when Tim was beginning to understand the two-hundred-page report relating the management team, that Tam entered his office. Well, technically speaking it wasn’t his “_his_” office. It was more of Bruce’s old office and Tim not changing the layout and décor because he was lazy.

And because Bruce had _good_ taste.

She entered with ease, pushing past the collection of photos hanging against the wall that had Bruce’s family throughout the years. There were even some of him when he just started working with Bruce, and others that Tim didn’t remember posing for.

He smiled at her, hiding the pounding headache that was pushing his limit. Today the pain around his head had relocated to one side of his brain and had kept throbbing with an intensity that made Tim wondered why his brain hadn’t cracked up open.

“Tim?” Tam asked, her face full of concern. “Why are you working in the dark?”

He groaned in response, squeezing his eyes shut when Tam turn on the lights on and a wave of nausea overwhelmed him.

“I’m fine,” He wheezed out. He heard her light footsteps coming up to him and her hands touching his forehead. He moaned when her cold hands touched his skin and leaned towards them.

Somehow the contact against his forehead felt _amazing_.

“Tim,” Was that a gasp? Tim hoped so because his ears were ringing. “You’re burning up!”

“I’m _fine_,” He said or else Tam would freak out and he didn’t need that. He was fine. A little bit like dying, but apart from that he was _fine_. “What happened?”

“You got a call,” Tam said inching closer. Her eyes looking at him, clearly preoccupied. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Totally,” Tim lied through his teeth. “I’ll make the call, Tam. Thank you for informing me,”

He waited for Tam to disappear before he answered it, only to find it was Barbara.

“Bab?” Tim replied, slumping against the seat and wishing he had taken another Tylenol. Oh god, he felt sick. So sick. Was this a fever? This felt like a fever. The flu? But he _did _take his shots earlier this winter so why the hell could his body start-

“Jason found a lead just now,” Barbara said, and Tim’s heart skipped a beat. _Lucchese_. “We need you in five at the docks. Nightwing just got back from Blüdhaven,”

He knew he shouldn’t.

He knew he should-

“Affirmative,” Tim said, shutting the small voice that was screaming this would be a bad idea. “I’ll be there in five,”

* * *

The night was perfect.

It was the type of night where the sky was clear, and one could see the stars. In a city filled with smog and cloudy weather, star gazing was a rare occurrence. Yet now, Tim could admire them with clarity as he scanned his surroundings. 

If only his body didn’t feel _this_ heavy and his head like exploding.

He struggled to reach for his grapple and shoot at the building next to him. His head was beginning to throb again into deep palpating waves of pain. He grunted when the pain relocated to the back of his head and kept there, but that didn’t stop him from doing his job.

The parameters were quite clear; do not engage and surveil the surroundings, before calling the rest of the team. Because one thing was dealing with a simple gang and another was dealing with a well-covered over two hundred members mafia.

They had partnered just like Stephanie said the other day, and now his mission was supporting and bringing back-up to Nightwing. Not that he wasn’t capable, Tim knew exactly his abilities. But it was the pain that prompted him to change strategy.

Tim reached the end of the roof and _jumped_ to the next one, feeling the wind caressing his face. It felt heavenly. He pushed a button on the left side of his ear gadget and he soon heard the voice of Oracle giving coordinates to the family.

It soon turned into a familiar chatter that kept him company. He wasn’t much of talking while doing surveillance since he could easily lose concentration. But hearing other people chattering made him feel not alone.

He hummed, jumping another roof and stumbled a little bit when he didn’t land well. The pain in his head flared up but he kept running looking at his surroundings for any hints of Lucchese’s members.

Apparently, everything was quiet in this sector, meaning something fishy was going on.

It was when he reached the next building that he realized he was going to inadvertently meet a dead end. Already prepared, he took his grapple and shoot the building next, so when he finished running through the roofs, he could use the physics to his advantage and starts swinging from one building to another.

Except...that the air felt strange to Tim, like a different compressing cold. That didn’t stop him leaping and pulling from the cord to tighten it. But while he was midair, his fingers slipped from the grapple. 

His eyes widened and his hands started flailing at the air as his body arched forward, the gravity taking him fiercely toward the concrete. He luckily impacted on trash bags, in a random alleyway, too close where Dick had warned him the mob’s hideout would be.

A pained grunt escaped from his mouth once he made the mistake to move his leg. _Not good_, he concluded, once he found out he couldn’t lift a finger without feeling like a thousand needles were perforating his head. He slumped his shoulders and fixed his eyes on his nearest trash can, all while ignoring how Oracle tried to reach out to him 

_Not good._

He closed his eyes and thought of a way to keep going, but his head was killing him. He tried to turn his head around and look between the trash bags if he could see his staff between the darkness but nope. 

Tim stood up with shaky legs and leaned against the wall. _What…what was wrong with him?_ He couldn't seem to stop shaking either and his head felt like exploding.

“_Red Robin,” _The smooth voice of Oracle spoke through the commlinks. Speaking of the devil. “_Everything alright?”_

_“I’m fine,” _He managed to say through gritted teeth, but the reality was that Tim is seconds to calling it quits. There was something wrong. This type of fall wouldn’t normally make him this sick. He struggled to stand up. Nausea, another sign from his body warning him that something was wrong, threatened his balance.

_“Red Robin please take a position on your 3 o'clock,” _Oracle spoke into his comm, as he kept still waiting for the nausea to pass. He gripped harder the edge of the brick wall, in the hopes it could help him focus, but to no avail.

His head was _hurting like crazy._

_“Red Robin?”_ He gasped when the pain in his head intensified and he shut his eyes. Pain, so much pain around he felt like vomiting. It was coming in waves. He leaned against the wall, but it wasn’t enough. The world was spinning, and he suddenly felt nauseous again.

_“Red Robin, I need you to respond,”_ Oracle spoke, this time more urgent. His tracker was pinging like crazy, a sign that he needed to touch it for the rest of the members to get his location, but he couldn’t move.

_“Nightwing informed the gang is heading towards the west. You need to move Red Robin. Please respond”_

His breath quivered in short and quick gasps every time he inhaled, his lungs having no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the chilled air around him. 

He could faintly hear what Oracle was screaming, but his head, there was something _wrong_, and he couldn’t pinpoint what-

_“Red Robin-”_

His stomach clenched and he gagged, vomiting his breakfast all over, before losing consciousness. Leaving him at the mercy of whatever _Lucchese_’s members were lurking in the area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter wasn't too weird. Also, there's a slight chance this story will end with more than 6 chapters (maybe 7-8) because apparently my muse has NO SELF-CONTROL :')  
Thank you for reading and being so patient with me! If you like this, please let me know in the comments! I love reading them!


	6. Quedo la embarra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim goes missing.  
Bruce reacts not so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, guys sorry for the wait! I wanted to say that this story is not abandoned! it's just that for the past months I've been going through a lot of things due to my country's social crisis/social outburst (that happened last year). I won't get into too many details but it was emotionally draining, scary and super stressful for me. And I needed to take a time out. 
> 
> I hope you can understand. That being said, pls enjoy the chapter! I made it with love 💕
> 
> cw: torture

It didn’t take long for the vigilante to pass out. Five minutes and forty-three seconds, to be more exact. Which was way less then any of them had anticipated, because Alphas typically lasted ten minutes after being hit with a tranquilizer dart.

It was the typical dart used mainly on alphas, that was known for shutting down their system. A cocktail of artificial pheromones that simulated the feeling of losing someone. Someone closed. Out of all the possible casts, Alphas were the most sensitives to losing pack members as they had been naturally hardwired to protect and cherish others.

With the exception that this time, the so-called vigilante reacted way faster than any of them had anticipated. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever because even omegas lasted longer. Not that it mattered at this point.

The only thing that did matter, was bringing the vigilante to their employer.

When they had been informed what their mission consisted, this was the only thing came to their mind. The fact that they even managed to catch one was impressive, to say the least. Many people only thought of vigilantes as an urban legend, meant to spook children when they misbehave.

And so, they started planning. They even went the whole way to create an extrinsic and fabricated lie, in order to lure them in. Create an Italian name ( Lucchese, which was actually taken from the first brand of pasta they saw), some tragic background and much imagination.

The only hard part about faking the whole mob ring, was telling people about it. Weeks went by in planning and spreading the lie, to entice the vigilantes near the area and now…. in front of their eyes….was their target.

As soon as the vigilante impacted against the floor with a painful thud, the rest of the gang got into position.

_Bingo._

“Coast is clear,” One of them said. They moved fast, careful to not wake up him. After all, one could never know how a drugged Alpha could react. But as they disarmed him and tied him... they couldn’t help but notice….that there was something wrong with this one, because not only did he weighed less than the typical Alpha, but he also didn’t have sharpened canines, nor did he right complexion-

If it wasn’t for the fact they were racing against the clock, they would have definitely checked what nature was the vigilante.

Or what the hell was wrong with him.

“Did we got the right one?” A beta in his mid-twenties asked, between coughs, as they carried the drugged target back to the vehicle. The leader took another look at the vigilante, the one they had been paid to catch, and wondered if they indeed got the right guy.

“Is that an omega?” Someone inquired taking a sniff. Two seconds later, someone else gagged. Another one snorted and said.

“Clearly not one.”

_Duh_, went unsaid. Everybody knew that one of the first clues in distinguishing omegas were their flowery sweet scent. Sure, the smell could change depending on the mood, but this guy? This guy smelled as if he went to a garbage camp or something for a month.

The leader of this particular gang stalled, deep in thought. It didn’t take long for the doubt to arrive since...well...they couldn’t fail. The leader took a step forward, with the intention to get a closer look at their capture.

Yet the question remained unsolved.

Was this the one they had been asked to retrieve? The rules were clear. _Look for the red one, the one who works alongside the Bats._ The thing was...that no one knew what vigilantes look like. Therefore as soon as they caught a glimpse of red, they all went.

A chill crept up to his spine at the thought of failure, and the leader had to bite his lips in order to not let a whine. The others quickly caught up the swift smell of fear and worked faster. They had until today to retrieve what his employer had asked.

It was that or all of them getting killed. It was the price they paid by working for him. So with one last inhale, the leader of the group turned around.

“Yeah,” He declared as he started the engine, pushing whatever uncertainty aside. “That is clearly the Red Hood. We've got him.”

* * *

Someone once said to him that the night is where all the cowards show their true side. As a vigilante who had decades of experience, Bruce could probably say that statement was very close to the truth.

In a city filled with crime and injustice, the night was a synonym of being exposed to whatever danger lurked around. It was one of the things that haunted Bruce occasionally. More specifically, for exposing his kids to danger.

Not that Bruce hadn't tried to persuade them from retiring from this lifestyle in particular.

As Alfred would say they were _“just as stubborn as their father”_ because every attempt of coercing them to step down from this life had been ignored.

The only thing that didn't weigh him so much was that at least most of them were adults, with the exception of Damian. There were times where Bruce would end up wondering, if he had made the right choice by allowing them to enter this side of life.

Even to this day...Bruce didn’t have an answer to that.

This was why every time they had to go out, Bruce took his time to plan ideal routes or force the rest of his family to partner with another. For safety, because they were his family...and for his family, he would do it all.

And now...they were here, on a mission. He briefly glanced at the rest. Robin and Nightwing to be more precise, since Red Hood had decided to go somewhere else.

There was a faint amount of bickering, which was a really common occurrence these days. He couldn't help but smile at the domestic scene. This has been what Bruce had been chasing for years. _A family_. It had taken them years to rebuild broken trust and reinforce frail bonds, to allow old wounds to heal.

He didn't notice how somewhere in the process, his throat started vibrating. Family. Pack. The indispensable thing that every Alpha wished and needed, Bruce had.

It felt wonderful. Sure it wasn't always sunshine and rainbows, because it took many more years for them to be the close pack they were now, but now even with the scent blocker, Bruce could smell the faint scent of _family_.

The only thing that was missing from the picture was Tim. The warmth and happiness that was surrounding vanished and so did the purr.

_Tim_.

He swallowed, in act an of guilt…since well, their latest chat had been... awful, to say the least. It was why after he went back to the manor Bruce had been avoiding Dick like the plague, since he knew he could get scolded for his incompetence in the communication department.

The thing was...that it wasn’t done out of malice, but apparently, communication was his kryptonite.

He had failed so hard in talking.

The worst of all? Is that Bruce had come absolutely prepared to talk to Tim. He had the speech ready, he had remembered where to put the correct intonation so his message could get across and in case everything else failed, there was a small bullet journal with all the important points hidden inside his jacket.

But all preparation went out the window when Tim sat in the car.

Because well...if there was one thing Bruce feared the most was rejection. The moment Bruce realized that Tim could perfectly reject their pack and break their bond…and everything that entailed for the family made him retract like a coward.

He panicked, in every sense of the word. All that emotional speech? _Gone._ The mental pep talk? Also _gone._ And he did tried, with every ounce of power, but by the time Tim had closed the door with a clipped “_thanks”,_ Bruce knew he had failed.

The thing was...that Bruce couldn't let this go. After so many years, integrating Tim in the family felt as right as breathing. He wanted to finish bonding with him.

Dick, Alfred, Jason, the whole family wanted to….even Damian.

Which was why after this mission, Bruce would try again. Perhaps he could talk to Dick or maybe Alfred for some advice, schedule again and then-

Then Oracle got into the private line.

That was when Bruce knew that something had come up...but nothing, _nothing_ quite prepared him to be informed that Tim’s signal had disappeared.

His whole world stopped right there-

He almost lost the grip to his grapple, after Oracle finished the report. His body reacted on his own and it was only his experience that didn’t make him collide against the wall. He let out a pained grunt when his body impacted the roof tiles instead.

There was a faint sound ringing into his ear.

The rest, Robin followed Nightwing lead, but Bruce stood there, trying to process what Barbara just said. The growl got stuck in his throat, when his brain began to analyze potential scenarios, being each one worse than the previous one.

Anger turned into fear, pretty quick.

_“Bruce?”_ Oracle spoke through the server but it wasn’t enough, because why now? And why Tim? He fisted his hands. Now...when they wanted to finish the bonding process so Tim could officially be in the family.

The self-loathing didn’t take long to appear. Bruce closed his eyes, hating himself a little bit more....since out of all the kids, Tim was perhaps the one Bruce had failed the most. His sweet Tim, the one who was always willing to help…

_Tim_.

“Barbara,” He said, hoping that the modulator wouldn’t catch the fear and uncertainty laced in his voice.

His mind desperately trying to form a coherent sentence. But his protective instincts, the one so distinctive of his kind, were slowly beginning to override him, to the point where he knew the scent blockers would be useless.

_“Bruce?”_

“Where was his last location?” He said trying to control himself but he could already feel how the control was slowly trickling down his fingers. He gritted his teeth and counted to ten, but the primal inside of him was screaming to do something.

“Did he said anything important?”

The brief reply didn’t help whatsoever, in calming him.

Bruce _snarled_.

* * *

Tim woke up to the sound of faint laughter, fading away into the distance. He blinked, but all he saw was a black world.

It didn’t compute with the last thought his brain had processed, seconds before he passed out, which was him swinging into the air, heading to the west.

What exactly could have happened?

Tim had no idea, but there was something in his arm making pressure. _Strange_, he thought. Brief snippets of fragmented memories passed through his mind. He felt lightheaded at the sudden mix of information bombarding him.

Out of all the pictures his photographic memory gave him, there was one that stood out the moment. The picture of a rancid smile and lunatic eyes-

_Thank you, gentlemen._

“No,” He croaked out, suddenly opening his eyes.

_For your incapability to follow orders._

_A gunshot._

_Bodies falling to the ground_.

The crude image of a cage and his whole body being bound shook him. His dysfunctional instincts screamed at him to do something, but with his arms tied, he couldn’t do much.

It didn’t take long for the panic to spread. Because out of all the foes he had expected to face, the Joker was not one of them.

He fought against the binding, but the metal cord binding him sliced with ease his costume and his skin. With every move, with every shake, pain bloomed throughout all his arms yet that wasn’t enough to stop him.

His mind, on the other hand, was filled with desperate thoughts because he _didn’t, he hadn’t, how come, why, when-_

He shut his eyes, hard. There were probabilities and numbers of survival running through his mind. Because as much as he wanted to be optimistic about this, as much as he wanted to say that everything would be okay, Tim was realistic enough to know that this was not the best scenario.

And that this could potentially mean his life was at stake.

Then, much to his horror, he heard _him._

“Wakey wakey!” Two words and a cackle, the one that was the main theme of Jason’s nightmares. Even if years had passed, there was no day in which Tim didn’t fear the Joker and everything he could possibly represent.

He was dangerous.

“Joker,” He grasped out and was taken back how clown kept laughing maniacally. There was that terrifying smile, that was more accentuated than the last time. But instead of cowering, he gathered all his fear into anger.

He stared at the culprit, hoping that it could help him save more time until the others would come. If the other even realized he was _gone._

That was a possibility he was not willing to believe.

Not unless he wanted the desperation to overcome him.

“My, my! What a surprise my men found in the alley, don’t you think little birdie?” The Joker asked with a smile, showing his putrid teeth. There was no clemency in his eyes, only tales of horror and pain. “Mmmm?”

Tim held his breath and waited.

“You see,” He started, tutting and sat in a chair that was in front of the cage. It was there where he realized most parts of the Joker clothes were covered in blood. “I wasn’t expected to see you, in specific.”

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask, taken back._ What does that mean?_ He thought. He hesitated both curious and beware of the clown’s dark intention.

It didn’t take long for the curiosity to win.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently miscommunication is a universal trait,” Joker said, with just a hint of annoyance. It was there where Tim realized the Joker's hands were covered in blood. “But you will serve just fine, in the end.”

“What?’”

“You see, I’ve been wanting to make the big old bat pay,” Joker explained. Then shrugged, as if the whole concept of torturing one of Batman’s allies was boring to him. “Especially after last time.”

Tim frowned.

“That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever-

“_Silence,_” The Joker purred. “No more questions, Little birdie. How about you leave the talking to me, hmm?”

“You’re delusional,” Tim replied, letting part of the fear escape. “Batman will arrive and he will lock you up just like other times-

A jolt of electricity impacted his rib, and he had to count to three in order to not let out a scream. He couldn’t admit defeat that easily.

He simply _couldn’t. _Jason even in his dying breath never submitted. Why would he be any different? _Because you were never wanted in the first place, _his brain supplied, _or else you would have been accepted years ago_.

Strangely so, that thought hurt more than the volts impacting on his body.

Because well...that thought wasn’t that far from the truth. It was no secret how he had come to the family. Unlike Jason or Dick or even Damian who had been accepted with wide-open arms, Tim had entered Bruce’s in a different way,

Maybe it had to do because he was mutated-

_Stop it right there_.

He forced his mind to go blank. To stop whatever spiraling thought to back off because he knew how his brain worked and unless he wanted to have an episode in front of the clown he knew, no s scratch that, he _should _stop-

“Cat got your tongue, birdie?”

A pause, before the clown’s smile, _widened_.

“Don’t worry,” He sing-song. “We’ll make you sing in no time.”

He pushed the wand into Tim’s cheek, not caring for the shrieks that emanated from him. Pain. So much pain. His eyes watered. Nausea crept up to him due to the mix of pain along with all the symptoms that came from his condition.

And what was worse? Is that he couldn’t move. As soon as the clown retracted the wand he slumped against the bonds that were tying him, tiredness overtaking his body. But that wasn’t taken well by the Joker, who narrowed his eyes and suddenly all the cheerful tone quickly transformed into a serious.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. We have a lot to talk about,” The clown chastised, moving the wand side to side. “And if you’re good, well...you can have a treat”

But it was only when Joker gave him that wicked laughed that Tim knew...he’d fucked up.

_Hard._

* * *

If there was one thing Bruce had much was control. But now? Now all control was slipping from his fingers. Every minute and second that passed made Bruce feel more restless and on edge. He had a good reason.

Tim was missing.

They searched _everywhere. _Every alley, every roof, every possible thing you can think of and yet...Tim was nowhere to be found. That had been two hours ago, when they had been forced to retreat after the first ray of shine began to appear.

Dick had to practically drag him back to the mansion, because Bruce just couldn’t leave. Not without finding Tim.

“What do you mean that you can’t find his location,” Bruce started for the fifth time. His voice sounded too weak for his likings and there was his tremor that in his hands. He wanted, no, he _needed_ to do something.

He’d been pacing non stop in the living room.

“Bruce,” Dick interjected, taking a step forward. They were just the two of them as the rest were back on the nest, yet Bruce he just couldn’t exactly rest. Not unless he knew where Tim was. “I know you want to help but-”

“Actually” A new voice piped in. He turned around and there was Stephanie, holding out a mug of coffee. She looked tired, just like everyone else….but there was something in her face.

Like a mix of determination and guilt.

“I have some news,” She admitted while averting her eyes. “It’s about Tim. There’s something you should know.”

Then she added, pushing a folder into Bruce’s hands.

“It’s about his health.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and I hope you have a good day! If you have like this chapter, please let me know! :3

**Author's Note:**

> :)  



End file.
